


Breakout

by oisforoblivion



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: British Nathaniel, M/M, Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, Superpowers, idk if anyone has any idea hmu lol, jk nathaniel can only be sassy, nathaniel is sassy because its the only personality i can write, prison-break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oisforoblivion/pseuds/oisforoblivion
Summary: no summary because ya... dunno, pls dig in
Relationships: Nathaniel Wesninski/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, andreil - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Breakout

Being antagonistic was instinctive.

And not just for him, it was easy for others to see his apparel, piercings, the cold look he’d put on the moment he opened his eyes, and find the breadcrumbs of hostility through the simplest words he would give voice to. After a while he stopped bothering himself with correcting people’s prejudice. Tiring and fruitless, letting people produce a narrative in their minds about his own life and watching them pulling themselves away from him was a much easier option.

Well, it wasn’t like he didn’t have the prerequisites for that assumption.

In their guild, he was one of the most powerful ability users. No one in particular knew about his past – he made sure about it – and no one would think that the armbands which covered from his wrists to his elbow was purely decorative.

Thus, he adapted his fictional personality without much difficulty. He stopped talking. One look was usually enough for people to scatter away like waiting for a bomb to diffuse, a word or two if he was really pushed to it. Head resting on arms underneath it, eyes closed, and legs crossed on his favorite hammock, was his default state and the universal sign that he won’t be bothered with anything at that moment. From their guild to the guards keeping an eye to his prison cell, he was sure everyone knew that fact.

It was, of course, until him.

“Sleeping Beauty indeed looks a bit different than I remembered.”

Andrew opened an eye to inspect which moron thought it was a good idea to annoy him and scanned him from top to bottom. Lean figure, auburn hair, blue eyes. Expensive clothes. The man didn’t flinch to his stare, and to top it he didn’t even lose the tasteful curve to the corner of his mouth or the delighted glint in his eyes. An interesting species, Andrew thought. But awfully stupid.

“Pity you had to bribe guards just to need a loan for your funeral in the end.”

“Hah,” he grinned. He had a light British accent. “Not these particular guards unfortunately, there were some personal issues to be dealt with. But why won’t we do the ice-breaking on our way out? You first, I insist.”

The man bowed slightly and showed to the now open gates with two motionless guards lying in besides it. Andrew dropped his legs from the hammock and looked around him more carefully and saw that the sigils on the walls were no longer glowing with their usual blue or the baritone hum that deafened his powers was no more. He could feel the uneasy prickling on the tip of his fingers effortlessly.

Andrew studied him again, but this time with much more depth. He did wear an expensive suit yes, but what he should’ve noticed first is that he had no visible weapons anywhere. From the edge of a couple untied buttons appeared old scars, nasty looking ones at that, and not a single crease or a string of hair out of its place.

The man tsked, and straightened up. He looked disappointed that Andrew didn’t move quickly as he was asked to. “We will need to help each other if you want to exit this place.”

The way the sentence was phrased bothered Andrew. “I don’t know how you entered here but you think too highly of yourself if you think you can leave here alone, as well.”

“We,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “have so much to learn about each other.” He exhaled and put his hands up as if giving up. “I wasn’t going to use this one but I am already noticed as for this instance. We perhaps should use the shortcut.”

“What do you-“

The man grabbed his arm so suddenly, Andrew didn’t understand it happened until after he got a firm hold on him. Before he was able to wrap his head around what just happened, his stomach twisted with another feeling. Universe warped around the single point where he grabbed him, immediately unraveling back into how things should be.

He fell to his knees in front of the changed scenery, and started dry heaving as his brain tried to register everything that happened in this half second. A light breeze ran through his tousled hair; only then could he realize that it was grass that stood between his fingers.

“Sorry for being intrusive. As I mentioned, we had no time left. The wards were down only for a limited time,” he said and took a deep breath of the fresh air. “But isn’t it worth inhaling this wonderful air to such view. The Nest is surely a magnificent piece of architecture for how gruesome it is inside.”

They were outside the highest security prison in the country, located in the middle of nowhere, built specifically for confining those with abilities. It was a glorious building, dark thick pillars and sharp edges that looked like belonged to a trillionaire’s house rather than a prison. How Andrew fell in there was a long and incredibly boring story – quite opposite to how he was escorted out.

“You…” Andrew gasped, still dizzy of the assault on his senses.

“I like referring to it as ‘the shortcut’. A nice little trick,” he guessed what Andrew wanted to ask. “Not exactly teleportation since that explanation brutually leaves out other cool features. Oh, for example,” he reached vertically out towards his side, holding out like he was trying to grab something. When he closed his grip and dragged his fist, a long black coat materialized in his clutch, which he threw to Andrew. “I believe this is yours. It’s chilly here.”

This shouldn’t have been possible. It was, simply, rigged. He only heard rumors about the family who meticulously bred with the most powerful users of their generation, producing offspring which would best the previous one with a crushing force. The word was around that the last child had disappeared from the surface of globe without a trace and left the world to the mercy of the last beast, the Butcher.

“You are Nathaniel Wesninski,” Andrew said. “Junior.”

“I dislike that fun nickname quite strongly. Would appreciate if you never used it again.”

Andrew’s hands and arms lit up with orange flames, sizzling over the humid grass with the aftermath of its heat as Andrew sprang up ready to fight.

“Hostile,” Nathaniel tsked.

“Everybody thought that you were dead.”

“Wrong questions, wrong timing.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Cooperation.”

“For what?”

“Let’s talk about business later,” Nathaniel said. “We have a ride waiting.”

**Author's Note:**

> this... has no plot. yet. ive been trying to find a literal story to put this in but like, my brain stopped lol. i wasnt gonna upload it but meh, there you go  
> [on tumblr](https://captive-foxhole-son.tumblr.com/post/624342975484461056/this-has-no-plot-yet-it-came-to-me-after-this) (id love to see your comments on this btw <3)


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